


On The Mend

by vorkosigan



Series: Over Sea, Under Stars [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, First Kiss, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorkosigan/pseuds/vorkosigan
Summary: After texting for many weeks, talking things over and admitting they are in love, Steve and Tony finally meet. A missing scene from my chaptered texting fic,Over Sea, Under Stars. Just one long scene of explicit goodness, really. Nothing but sex. And some feels.





	On The Mend

**Author's Note:**

> Here, I made you some porn. I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Also, if you haven't read [Over Sea, Under Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8635870/chapters/19804126) this won't make much emotional sense. You can still read it for porn value, but you wouldn't know how they got where they are emotionally. As porn, it still works without this knowledge, though, I think, if that's what you want :)

Steve wasn’t changed – Tony mused as he paced up and down his room – well, not exactly. It was an early evening in October; it was impossible to see if it were drizzling outside, for all the goddamn fog. Despite the gloomy weather, Tony couldn’t suppress a silly grin overtaking his face at the sound of footsteps. Contrary to the popular belief, October just might be the best time of year to visit Barcelona.

 

Steve wasn’t exactly changed, but there was a certain weariness visible around his eyes. A new softness too, Tony could have sworn, although it wasn’t so apparent at the first glance.

 

He turned away from the door when he heard the doorknob. Just for show. And to hide his expression.

 

The door squeaked.

 

“Hey.”

 

You are not supposed to get hard just because someone said hey, are you? It was silly, really. Not fifteen minutes ago, when they were with the others, the two of them seeking and avoiding each other’s eyes across the room, Tony had been completely fine. But now the anticipation was burning in his stomach and his breath was getting shallow.

 

The ache felt good, though, very good, and that was what scared him.

 

There was no other sound in the room. A second stretched.

 

With an effort of will, he turned away from the window, traced Steve’s dear, familiar form with his eyes, starting from his feet, then all the way up, slowly, so slowly, tormenting himself, prolonging the anticipation. Steve was leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets, ever so casual. Tony had _missed_ that stance of his. Then finally, finally, his eyes rested on Steve’s face. It wore a slight frown of consternation.

 

“Hello,” Tony managed. His own voice sounded coldly irrelevant to him. The lying bastard of a voice.

 

Two steps towards Steve, like in a  haze. The coldness in the pit of his stomach and the scorching need in his cock finally met, and mixed, and the results were... interesting. He felt his eyes finally drawn to Steve’s, fixed on them. The passionate, stubborn intensity of Steve’s gaze couldn’t be replicated, no matter how much Tony started at the photos sometimes. His eyes were boring into Tony’s, face still frowning as he tried to get a read on him. Steve’s breathing was audible, or perhaps Tony’s mind was zeroing in on anything of Steve’s.

 

Tony had tried to imagine this meeting a million times. He had thought that, after all the messages and confessions, it would go easier. They would fall into each other’s arms, unable to control their passion and... It was pretty decent jerking off material, really, of late. But now it was as if a transparent plastic wall was between them, like something was stopping them from getting close, from touching. Steve felt further away than when there was an ocean between them.

 

The last stop before the point of no return, Tony mused. It would almost be easier to fall into the old patterns, to embrace the enormous pain of a never satisfied longing, and get on with his life. That sort of pain was at least familiar, whereas this new, raw thing was overwhelming, it was too much, and Tony didn’t know if he could stand it.

 

He swallowed. No. _No._

 

Another step forward. He extended his right hand, reaching for Steve’s left; as if just one touch could break the spell. Steve of course had to reach out with his right, as if to shake Tony’s. Tony batted it aside. “Not a business deal, damn you”, he muttered, half-aware he was speaking aloud, and caught Steve’s left in his own. It was warm and dry, and it squeezed Tony’s harder than he had expected, and held on. He felt the warmth of that palm right in the centre of his chest. And he looked up at the Steve’s face again; a sudden smile lit up Steve’s feature. He tried to contain it, but no use. Tony’s eyes were glued to Steve’s lips. His breath hitched.

 

There were a hundred things he would have normally done in a situation like this. A scorching look through lowered lashes, a corner of his mouth dancing slightly, a slow, deliberate caress of thumb over Steve’s wrist, over his pulse. But all of that seemed inadequate, and almost like a betrayal.

 

Steve laid his other hand on top of Tony’s. So warm.

 

It was as if a set of harp strings stretched from Tony’s heart to the tip of his cock, and Steve was playing that harp, perfectly but mercilessly, simply by existing.

 

They stood like that for a moment longer, Tony’s hand captured in both of Steve’s, unmoving. And than Steve’s fingers began a slow voyage up Tony’s forearm. Eyes serious, a little lost, fixed on Tony’s. Lips suddenly parted slightly. Tony didn’t know when that had happened. He could have sworn he never looked away from Steve’s lips, but perhaps he got distracted by his eyes. His touch finally reached Tony’s elbow, found the soft spot underneath in one single caress. Tony suppressed a shiver.

 

“I thought you wanted to kiss me”, he heard himself say.

 

Steve didn’t even nod. He just closed the distance. Their faces were inches apart. Steve breathed Tony’s air for a second, then touched lips to his.  Tony closed his eyes. He was aware of the press of lips in a careful, boyish kiss. His thoughts moved down. Their hands, holding onto each other, now trapped in a burning furnace between their stomachs. Lower yet. Their erections pressed tightly against each other, pulsing in unison. Steve’s arms weren’t around Tony, and Tony’s weren’t around him either. There was nothing holding them so close, apart from the desire to touch, to finally feel the other with your whole body. They had both pushed their pelvises out, longingly, desperately, belying the innocence of the kiss.

 

 He opened his mouth slightly, tasted Steve’s lower lip. And suddenly, it was just not _enough._ With his free left hand he jerked Steve closer, catching him around the waist, resisting the urge to grab his ass and pulling at his lower back instead. Closer, closer. The tip if his cock felt raw, pulsing with blood; it was rubbing against the fabric of his boxers, and, through the layers of clothing, against Steve’s zipper. It was painful, but Tony wanted _more_. He ground his hips against Steve, just a little, just once, to find relief from the burning for a second.

 

Steve gasped. This seemed to be the last straw. He parted his lips, and suddenly their press against Tony’s was hard, unrelenting, and his tongue shot into Tony’s mouth almost forcefully. Steve struggled to free his hands from between their bodies, clumsy for a second, forgetting he was supposed to let go of Tony first. And then one of his arms was somewhere around Tony’s torso, but that one was almost irrelevant, because the other hand was squeezing Tony’s ass cheek, insistently, almost to the point of pain. Then he pulled him even closer, in a jerky motion, holding Tony’s pelvis in place and pushing his own groin out. He bent his knees a little and rubbed his cock directly over Tony’s while keeping the other’s mouth shut with his own.

 

Tony was barely aware he was moaning against Steve’s lips. He pushed against his tongue with his own, scraped over his teeth. Both his hands were fumbling, pulling Steve’s shirt out of his jeans. Finally, he found the warm skin, felt it under his palms, and the urgency abated a little. It was as if every touch of skin on skin, every point of contact sated something in him, just to awaken a hunger for something else. He could feel Steve’s cock mash against his own, and the desperate, torturous _deprivation_ – I _want_ , I _need_ – and he craved more of Steve’s body, and clothing was in the way, and... and he must have been muttering some of it into the kisses, because he heard Steve say: “Okay... all right...” (It sounded very near and very, very far away at the same time).

 

Both of Steve’s hands were under Tony’s t-shirt in an instant, exploring, rubbing, spreading warmth and goodness all over his back like a lotion. Tony let his hand wonder down from Steve’s chest. It lingered on Steve’s stomach for a second, feeling the muscles move under his fingers, and then it continued even lower down, tracing the waistband of Steve’s pants with two fingers, but no, it was too slow, too excruciating. Even lower, then. As if sensing his intention, Steve had stopped grinding against him and was now standing very still. Tony covered the other man’s cock with his palm and squeezed lightly over the fabric; his thumb found the tip. Steve’s head jerked back, breaking the kiss. His eyes flew closed; his lips were still parted, and red from the kissing. Tony let go, then rubbed a bit up and down, and squeezed again. Steve’s expression almost looked like anguish. “Tony,”, he gasped, barely audibly. His face at that moment, eyes squeezed shut, mouth half-open, was probably the most beautiful sight Tony had ever seen.

 

Slowly, Tony reached with his other hand. Opened the button. Then pulled the fly all the way down. Traced a finger up and down Steve’s length over the boxers. The cock jumped to meet his hand. Tony complied for a moment, granted him full contact, stroking, caressing. Then he pulled both the pants and the boxers down, just a little, no more than absolutely necessary. Freed, Steve’s cock was big and erect and beautiful. He caught hold of it with one hand and treated it with one slow, deliberate, full stroke. Steve inhaled sharply. His hand flew down to close over Tony’s, locking it in place.

 

“Tony, don’t...” he said hoarsely.

 

An icy pit opened in Tony’s stomach. Too fast, then, too close, too intimate, too...what?

 

“Steve, I...”, he began. _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I should have let you_... again, what? He let go of Steve.

 

Steve looked him full in the face. “No, I...” he stated earnestly, before his voice hitched to a halt. He took a deep shuddering breath. Gave Tony an intense, meaningful look, imploring him to understand. Tugged at Tony’s belt, almost helplessly. Then: “You too,” he managed.

 

Never in his life had Tony gotten out of his clothes so quickly. Steve followed suit, and soon they were both standing there completely naked, and almost at a loss for what exactly to do. The urgency had abated a little bit, now that they weren’t touching; it seemed they took a moment to really look at each other. _Should we have talked first?_ Tony asked himself for the first time. _Shouldn’t we..._ But Steve’s eyes lingered on his torso for a moment, cataloguing his chest, his upper arms, then seemed to move down. He reached Tony’s midsection and stopped there, as if drawn by a magnet. Tony felt his cock pulse, sing, basking in the gaze. Steve’s eyes were heavily lidded now; something dark had surfaced there.

 

Tony made a step towards him, but Steve stopped him with a glance. He came to him instead, halted a few inches away, not touching him. He let his hand wonder up Tony’s inner thigh, teasingly slow, feather-light. The other one found it’s way to the nape of Tony’s neck, guiding his head slightly to the side, giving better access to Tony’s neck. Tony complied happily. Steve’s warm breath tickled his neck for a second, then his lips, met skin, dragging against it, kissing gently, then harder. An army of fiery ants danced up and down Tony’s inner thighs; he stood stock-still. And then, when the sensation was getting too much, too sharp, he felt Steve’s hand cup his balls, thumb them lightly, then close around the root of his cock. The ring of his fist traveled up its length, calluses rubbing against Tony’s tender skin, with pressure that was almost too intense to be comfortable. As Steve rubbed the tip of his thumb up and down the cleft of the cock, Tony shuddered violently, and felt his knees turn to water.

 

“Dammit, Cap...”, he gasped.

 

“No,” growled Steve into his ear, “ _Steve_ ”, and then he dragged his upper teeth lightly over the soft skin underneath.

 

“Okay,” Tony said, and with an enormous effort of will he suppressed the flood of orgasm that threatened to overcome him. Not yet, dammit, not _yet._ He placed his palm against Steve’s chest and pushed him lightly away.

 

Steve gave him a worried look. “Not good?” It seemed they were unable to string more than two words together, between them.

 

“Too much.” Tony didn’t trust his voice to manage anything more demanding than a merest whisper.

 

He took Steve by the arm and guided him towards the bed behind a folding screen. He sprawled on his back. He took a few shuddering breaths that didn’t do much in the way of calming him down. “What,” he forced the words out. “What do you want to do?”

 

“Anything,” Steve said at once. But by the way he was looming over Tony, resting on his elbows, staring down at him with a look that bordered on predatory, it wasn’t so hard to figure him out.

 

“No, _tell_ me,” Tony insisted. He was slightly amused, but it wasn’t just that. He wanted to hear Steve _say_ it, to relish in the words.

 

Steve moved a tad closer, rested his dick on Tony’s leg; moved it back and forth in barely noticeable motions, leaving trails of fire over the skin of Tony’s thigh. But: “Anything you like,” he said, his voice hoarse but unwavering.

 

“Don’t you want to fuck me?”, Tony said, deliberately enunciating every word.

 

The darkness in Steve’s eyes was a reward in itself. “Hell yes,” the man growled, and Tony felt the words reverberate through his groin. _Good enough._

 

His legs bent at the knee, Tony lay back. He closed his eyes, drowning, sinking into the feeling of Steve’s lubed up fingers ghosting their way from the sensitive spot at the root of the spine, through Tony’s cleft. They lingered at his anus, circling it once, twice. Then just  the tiniest of pressures; on the verge of sinking in, but no, they were on their way. They reached the spot just behind his balls, and decided to stop there, massaging, harder now. Tony felt the burning echo of the touch _inside_ , and he shuddered, grabbed onto Steve’s shoulder for comfort if there is such a thing as seeking comfort from too intense a pleasure. And then they were back at the entrance. One jabbed lightly at it, probed, slid in up to the first knuckle without too much trouble. The sheer feeling of being touched on the inside, after so much time, of _Steve_  touching him there... Like he had pressed a button. Tony gasped and shuddered and his back jerked up and then down, and _oh god_ , the finger sank all the way in; Tony had impaled himself on it with his sudden motion. And he gasped through his teeth, and it _hurt_ , it was too sudden, too soon. But the stinging abated in a second, and what was left was a desperate burning for _more_ ; a longing to be pinned down and thoroughly fucked mixed with a softer, darker yearning to be kept right there, on the verge, and teased to the edge of his life until he started whimpering. Steve caught his eye, then lowered his head and napped at the soft spot on the inner side of Tony’s knee, at the same time rotating the finger inside. On second thought, the whimpering phase wasn’t so far at all.

 

“Hurry, damn you.” Tony’s voice was creaky, his throat dry. One finger, in the beginning, was the worst, he’d always said that. That feeling of being uncomfortably full and then, ate the same time, not full enough, not nearly enough.

 

Of course, it wasn’t Steve’s fault. Tony did his best to relax. He knew how too. Just, it had been years.

 

“Oh, I want to, trust me,” Steve said in a controlled, frustrated whisper. He sounded like he was near bursting. And he ran the fingers of his free hand lightly over Tony’s thigh, up and down, teasing, soothing, then up to his stomach, dancing up and down Tony’s cock as he pumped his finger in and out. Tony closed his eyes again.

 

Tony was empty for a moment, disappointed, left _wanting._ But then there was a new pressure and yes, _yes_ , it was two fingers now. Pressed carefully together, to make them as small and narrow as possible. Tony swallowed, willed his muscles to relax, and they were _in_. Just at the beginning of his hole, stretching the rim stingingly, deliciously. He heard Steve suck in air, then he relaxed the digits a little. Now they were side by side, inside Tony’s hole; Steve waited for him to adjust, but too soon, too vigorously, he pushed in; Tony welcomed it. He welcomed the ache and the stretching and the sharp burning. He could feel his cock jump, jerk, once, twice under Steve’s hand. And the clump in his throat was too dry for words, and he could feel the flood within him start, rise, but he pushed it down, down; not _yet._ With an abrupt motion, he pushed Steve’s hand away from his cock. Which was when, with a barely audible “To hell with it,” Steve buried his fingers to the hilt. Tony could hear his patchy, loud breathing, could feel the hot breath scorch his knee.

 

In and out, a few times, and then scissoring, unscissoring, and some fumbling on the inside, searching for the sweet spot that made Tony curse and arch his back all over again and dig his nails into Steve’s shoulder as hard as he could.

 

“Ready,” he managed through the tight throat.

 

Steve pumped his fingers a few times more, for good measure. But his motions were choppy, hurried. Tony saw him bite his lower lip so hard it went white. The grip of his other hand on Tony’s thigh was fierce, almost bruising. And his eyes, when his gaze met Tony’s, were night.

 

He placed the tip of his cock at the rim of Tony’s hole and pushed. Hard. And with a flash of pain, the head was in, stretching, burning. Steve was _big._ He must have read something in Tony’s face, though, because he stopped instantly. Gave Tony an almost scared look. A questioning grunt. He leaned on his elbow and tried to bend down, despite the awkward angle, caressing, stroking gently, crooning at him. But in what seemed to Tony no longer than an instant, the pain abated, leaving just a searing, desperate need inside, to feel Steve deeper, harder, _more_. “Okay,” he managed.

 

Still, the spell seemed broken for the moment. With a worried expression, Steve pressed so slightly it was almost imperceptible, slid in barely half an inch, then stopped again, casting an anxious glance at Tony’s face. Then again.

 

Tony’s cock was pulsing with urgency, _craving_ the touch of Steve’s hand, but still, Tony knew that a stroke or two would end him. And while he wanted it desperately, he still _didn’t_ , not before he’d been at least filled with Steve’s cock, fucked properly, if for a few minutes. And he _wanted_. He wanted it so much he could have screamed. Frustration at Steve’s careful movements grew unbearable.

 

“You,” Tony said clearly, and way louder then they’d been speaking until now, “are not in _church_.”

 

Steve barked a laugh, just once. But in his eyes, something sparked; Tony could have sworn he saw the flecks of green flash inside the blue. And in one single stroke he pounded the rest of the way in. Tony sucked in air through his teeth. The stroke hadn’t been hard, nor angry, but it was forceful.

 

“ _Ouch,_ ” Tony said, but it was more for show than anything else, because the pain took a mere seconds to turn into a yummy ache in his gut. He reveled in the feeling of fullness, of being thoroughly stretched around Steve. And Steve seemed to read him better now. He rotated his hips once, vigorously. His eyebrows danced for a moment. Then he came down to rest on his elbows, staring down into Tony’s face.

 

“I,” he said, his voice going dangerously soft, “thought you could take it.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony whispered. The rest of what he was going to say got drowned in a gasp when Steve rotated hips his again, touching all new spots, lighting them afire.

 

Steve pulled out, relatively slowly, maybe a quarter of the way, then pounded back in. Tony felt himself sliding perhaps two inches across the bed; he grabbed onto Steve’s upper arms for purchase and held on with all he had. Something clenched in his stomach as he stared up into Steve’s face from so near. A keen hunger mixed with tenderness so fierce it could be expressed only by digging his nails all the way in; and Steve took hold of his shoulders in turn, holding him firmly in place. Pulled out, again not too far, then in, all the way, to fill him, to fuck him, to give him what he wanted.

 

“God, Tony”, he croaked before another desperate set of motions, in and out, in and out; they were getting jerkier, more arrhythmic by the second. Tony tried to think of an inappropriate religious joke, but halfway there his thoughts got obliterated, and all he could do was hold on, and take it, balancing on the verge of the flood again, but this time he wanted to be _over_ that edge, and with each stroke he was infinitesimally closer, like decimals stretching into infinity and never quite reaching their goal.

 

“My cock,” he whispered hoarsely, and Steve obliged, reached down and took hold of him. Squeezed lightly. Just held him in his palm. And the jerky motions of him fucking in and out provided enough of almost painful friction of skin on skin. Once, twice, and then Tony was riding the current. He thought he moaned loudly, but he couldn’t be sure. And Steve still held his cock, massaging it lightly even thought it was _too much_ now (but a good sort of too much!). And he never stopped moving inside Tony, now with choppy, short jabs. Tony opened his eyes, to see Steve’s face contorted  above him, as if in pain. And Steve jerked one more time, shuddered, and his whole body went stiff; stayed like that for a moment. And then he collapsed on top of Tony, panting wetly. It sounded almost like sobbing. Tony put both his arms around him, pulling him closer, rubbing his back, the back of his neck. He lifted his own head and placed a small kiss amid Steve’s hair. The sweet warmth that rose in his chest pretty much equaled the orgasm in intensity.

 

They lay like that for a little while, Steve’s head resting on Tony's chest.

 

Then Steve rolled to the side, propped himself up on an elbow. Tony felt his gaze like a caress, up and down his body. He couldn’t help but stretch languorously, then moved closer. He could feel a tired, satisfied smile invade his face.

 

Steve’s eyes met his own, though, and stayed there, suddenly all serious.

 

“You all right?”, he asked.

 

“Are you kidding?”, Tony said. “Never better.”

 

And then: “Steve, I really love you.” It escaped from his lips like a convict; and it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it was the first time he’d said it _aloud_ , and that made it more palpable. An urgent pressure in Tony’s chest, that had been there for so long he’d gotten used to it, was now off; and he felt naked without it. But being naked with some people was the best, really.

 

Steve leaned over and planted a slow, soft, immensely tender kiss upon Tony’s forehead. It lasted a lifetime. “Me too,” he said, as if the kiss hadn’t spoken clearly enough (you don’t kiss people on the forehead that way unless you love them, Tony mused). “And oh, I missed you so much, I missed you so _much_.” Amidst all the pleasure and happiness, there was too much pain seeping out through Steve’s words. And Tony pressed himself against him, all the way, and held him close, and leaned his head against his. It seemed to help.

 

And there was so many things they needed to talk about, but the day had been long, the fuck glorious, and the emotions more than either of them was used to. They fell asleep in each other’s arms and slept until the stars faded from the sky, and then some more. The sea waves outside hummed a lullaby of their own.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There :) And now you can go back and read the epilogue to Over Sea, Under Stars [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8635870/chapters/23926497)


End file.
